


The Broflovski-Cartmans

by BookishTea



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), American suburban neighbourhoods, Angry Kyle is hot Kyle, Attempted Sexual Assault, Block parties, Established Relationship, Family, Home, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Jello and anal beads, Kyman - Freeform, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Male Homosexuality, Moving, Neighbors, Sexual Humor, Swearing, Threats of Violence, potlucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-18 13:40:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8163901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookishTea/pseuds/BookishTea
Summary: A glimpse into the married life of Eric and Kyle as they move into a generic white suburban neighbourhood, and the feud they hold with the president of the Neighbourhood Watch.





	1. Apple Pie

Nancy Jones had simply put, the perfect life. She had the all American dream: a beautiful house with a well kept garden that had won first place five years in a row(soon to be six), all surrounded by a crisp white picket fence. She loved her fence! But not as much as her family, young Billy, Mary, and baby Susanne. All fathered by her adoring husband, Adam, the local family doctor for the town.

When Nancy wasn't making a pot roast for dinner, or a peach cobbler from scratch, she was the leader of the Neighbourhood Watch. A fact that she was incredibly proud of, especially when you considered all of the hard work she'd managed. The streets have never been neater, and the Church bake sales had never raised as much money.

In short, life had treated her well. Anyone would be hard pressed to destroy this image of harmony, if it was possible at all.

* * *

 

June, one of the warmer months. It was a hot day, hotter than what their town had felt in a while. There was not one cloud in the sky, allowing no coverage from the sun's constant attention. Afraid that their lawns would dry out from the heat, everyone had left their sprinklers on. The image was mesmerizing, bursts of icy water spraying into the open air, casting the glimmer of condensed rainbows against the vibrant green of the grass. It was wonderful, one of the few sounds that day.

School hadn't ended yet, and most were at work, meaning that the streets were empty. Besides the sprinklers, what few sounds were of the clothes swaying on the lines, and the grasshoppers chirping.

Around this time Nancy had gotten her first call of the day, of course from her gal pal, Betty.

She flipped through her favourite magazine, Woman & Home, as she answered the incessant ringing.

"Hello?"

"Hello, it's Betty." Of course, who else would it be?

"How are you, Betty?" She asked, not really caring but wanting to be polite. Before her friend could even respond, she was talking away, "I saw this lovely recipe for banana bread, I think I'll give it a try-"

"Nancy, I heard some news ab-"

"Adam can't resist a good loaf, the big dolt that he is! Maybe if I make it I can convince him to put a gazebo in the backyard, you know how long I've been wanting one."

"I know, Nancy. But I only just called to-"

"Speaking of fashionable choices, I just heard from my Avon representative that stripes are in! Isn't that wonderful? I'll have to take my old clothes out of retirement. Heaven knows how long it takes to get rid of that mothball smel-"

"Nancy!" Betty shouted, "We're being infested!"

The line eased into an uncomfortable bout of silence. Placing her magazine beside her on the couch, Nancy leaned forward as she frowned.

"Infested? What earth are you talking about, Betts'? No, don't tell me.." She sat up straight, "Is it... lice?" She ignored the sigh on the other end, "I swear if I find out that Williams girl has been napping in the sandbox again I'll be writing an angry letter to the school board! I am not dealing with another- "

"Nancy it isn't lice!" Betty gulped hastily, "It's worse, much worse... it's... _the gays_..." She could practically hear the shudder coming from her friend.

Nancy blinked, "Gays?" She tested the word, swishing it around in her mouth. It took a couple of seconds before realization dawned on her, "Oh, gays! Don't worry about them, dear. They're harmless."

"Harmless!" Betty scoffed, "They'll taint our children, Nancy! Next thing you know poor little Billy will be shoving cucumbers and hamsters into his...you know."

"They don't really do that... do they?"

"It's true! I read some article on it and everything! And now we'll be having one living next door!"

"Betty calm down! I'm sure they won't be that bad, they're silly little things! They always wear delightful little suits, carry rainbow flags, and just loooooovvveeeee Broadway!"

"I don't know, Nancy."

"Look if it makes you feel better, I'll go over and welcome them to the neighbourhood. After I meet them, I'll call you straight away and dish out all the dirt. How does that sound?"

* * *

 

"I swear to God! Eric?! Where's the fucking brush?!"

"What?!"

"The... I'm not doing this." Kyle stood up from his crouched position, pushing the cardboard box out of his way as he went into the room across from the soon-to-be-office, their bedroom.

In it his husband sat on the floor, trying to put together their bed frame. The whole process of moving had exhausted him, but he refused to stop until this fucking bed was complete. He would  **NOT** be sleeping on some shit air mattress, like some moderately wealthy hobo.

"Have you seen the paintbrush?"

"No. Does it look like I'd know where it is? I've been working on this piece of shit the whole time." The pair might be just a little bit pissy. Just a little bit.

"It was just a question, Eric. There's no need for that tone."

"What tone? I don't hear anything? The only thing I hear is this fucking bed frame, being an asshole!" As if to prove his point, he swatted at the wood. "Fuck off!" He shouted, glaring harshly at the inanimate object.

Kyle rolled his eyes.

"What?"

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to, you're giving me that whiny bitch stare."

" _Eric."_

He paused, now noticing that maybe it was plausible he went a little too far. Kyle hadn't slept that much either, maybe less, he was always the one to fret. Like an old mother hen, the idea had the corners of Eric's lips inadvertently twitching. Immediately he squashed the feeling, gulping as he mumbled out a quiet "Sorry."

Kyle sighed, screwing his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose. When he opened them, he forced his face to soften. "Look," he said, walking over and bending to meet his husband's gaze, "I know things are hard right now. I really do. You have to trust me that it'll get better, okay?"

Snorting at the hummed response, Kyle pushed the hair back from Eric's forehead. Swooping down, despite his protesting back, to press a quick kiss against his mouth. His eyes flickered close for a moment, still reeling from the squeezing sensation in his chest. Even after all of this time, it still hadn't faded. It always felt fresh to him. He pulled away, satisfied that Eric looked just as breathless as he did. "You need a haircut" he whispered.

Eric laughed, reaching up to tug on a particularly unruly curl. "Speak for yourself and your Jew-fro."

"I thought we agreed not to call it that..."

"I recall no such thing. The only vows I made were to keep tapping that sweet ass."

Kyle groaned, annoyance and amusement flaring again. "That reminds, you need a shower too."

A smirk slid onto Eric's face, befitting as he waggled his eyebrows at his fuming lawyer, "Why? Want to join me?"

"Yeah, no thanks. I have a million and one things to do, I don't have the time to stroke your ego."

"You could always be stroking something el-"

" _Besides_ ," Kyle loudly interrupted, "you really smell."

"Excuse me, who's fault is that? You're the one who decided to pack all of the useful stuff, like the deodorant."

"I told you could use mine!"

"I'm not using Irish Spring. Not now, not ever."

"Holy Moses! You are _such_ a baby!"

"If I'm a baby then that means you're a pe-"

"No. We're not doing this again. Just, please have a shower? You're peeling the wallpaper with your stench." Before any other snide comment could be made, Kyle was gripping his husband's hands and hauling him up onto his own two feet. He made sure to swat Eric's ass on his way out of the room. Chuckling under his breath as Eric called, "Hey! That's sexual harassment! I'll fucking report you, you pedo'!"

* * *

 

She cleared her throat for what felt the hundredth time that minute, testing the waters once again. "Hello, my name is Nancy Jones, and welcome to our neighbourhood! I can't tell you how impatient we're all are to meet you! You are in fact our first gay couple. Maybe you could...No that isn't right... I hear your kind is the artsy type. How delightful! Have you seen the musical Wicked? With all... oh shit." She paused for a second, brow furrowed as she tried to think of something else. Anything.

"Oh fuck it." She pressed the doorbell. After a few seconds, Nancy was almost certain that the bell wasn't working. A pink sharp fingernail rose above it, ready to press again when the door was flung open.

Well, he certainly wasn't what she expected. There was no neon colours, a shirt that was popped open at the chest, or mesh clothing. Nowhere in fact.

Instead there was a tall, lean man before her, doubtlessly tired from the looks of him. There was dirt and paint smeared on his dark jeans and oversized flannel shirt, and what looked like ink on one of his tan cheeks. Paired with russet curls that were cut short, and brilliant green eyes, Nancy had to admit he looked cute. In a bookworm sort of way. She glanced at his nose, defined and nobly aquiline. She'd have to make a point to refer him to Betty's husband, Frank, he was a plastic surgeon.

Hefting the weight of her gift so it rested more comfortably in one arm, she offered the other as she flashed a smile. "Nancy Jones, pleased to meet your acquaintance."

He gave a hesitant smile back, shaking her hand in a firm grip. "Kyle, nice to meet you." After they released each other's hands, they stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do next. Eventually Kyle cleared his throat, nodding towards the house as he held the door further open. "Would you like to come in?"

Nancy smiled back, showing her perfect teeth, "Of course."

It felt strange entering this house, even though she'd been here plenty of times throughout the years. This used to belong to lovely Mrs. Pearl Phillips. The poor thing had been a widow for years, and after her children moved out, quite lonely. It had been five years since she passed, but it still felt like yesterday.

The hallways were still the same, as was the paint, all bright colours. That would change quickly enough, as evident with the stacks of sealed boxes, all labelled for different rooms.

"Oh! Heavens me, I almost forgot." She readjusted her gift, peeling the tin foil off the top. "I brought something for a little house-warming."

Kyle smiled, accepting the held out gift, "You shouldn't have."

"It's tradition." Nancy replied, like that explained everything. "Now, I hear you're gay, is that true?"

"Yes...?" Kyle glanced away, suddenly feeling like an animal in the zoo.

"Splendid! Where's your...'partner'? Don't tell me he's at work."

"No he's-"

"Babe, have you seen..." The thundering steps that came down the staircase stopped. Nancy and Kyle turned around, mortified for completely different reasons. Eric paused, still dripping wet from his shower as he stood wearing nothing but his boxers. Suspiciously he smelt of Irish Spring, but Kyle was far too preoccupied to comment on it. He was too busy wanting to strangle Eric, then himself to put an end to this hellish experience.

"Holy shit, is that apple pie?" Never one to shy away from an audience, Eric went down the stairs and walked straight up to Kyle, taking the dessert away from him. He stuck three fingers in, shoveling the innards into his mouth. "Shit" he moaned, "is there cinnamon in here? _And_ nutmeg...? Fuck..."

"I..." Nancy started, but quickly changed her mind, "...Yes?"

"You can tell" Eric mumbled around his food, "it's good. This bitch over here," he waved a finger at Kyle, unconsciously flicking a chunk of apple onto Kyle's shirt. The nerve under his lawyer's left eye twitched; "never puts enough sugar in anything. It sucks. Man, its still warm from the oven."

"I'm... I'm sorry to hear that?"

Suddenly realizing his manners, Eric offered his sticky hand to Nancy, "Eric, by the way." She stared at the offending appendage for a moment before shaking her head, "Nancy Jones. I only came over to introduce myself, I best be on my way."

Eric paused in his eating, "Don't be like that, Nancy. You can't just show up and leave, at least sit on the couch and talk for a few minutes."

"I..."

" _Please?"_   It was like he'd been saving it, a bazillion watt smile that fried Nancy's brain to mush. She was nodding her head and following the lumbering form of her neighbour into the living room before she even knew it. Unaware that she was a pawn that prolonged the tongue lashing that Kyle was about to give Eric, even when the gritting of his teeth was obvious as he said, "I'll put the kettle on. Coffee or tea?"

"Tea, please." She had responded, missing the heated glare that Eric smirked back at.


	2. The Bee Movie

Comfortably Eric sat on the couch, leaving the very end for Nancy as he stretched his body out. The pie tin was placed on his belly, a makeshift table as he ate. He ignored the crumbs on his skin, or the bits that fell onto the expensive leather.

Nancy gulped down the saliva in her mouth, somehow transfixed by the image. Eric wasn't slender like her Adam, they were nothing alike. And yet, her new neighbour was... better? How was that even possible? Maybe it was the confidence that oozed from him, ensnaring everyone in its grip.

With dark features cast on pale skin, he was unashamed of the largeness of his body, both in weight and height. It was daunting. Face burning, and her host distracted by his food, her eyes lowered from his chest to his belly, to eventually...

Her Adam and Eric were nothing alike... In all ways. If she moved her hand in the slightest, she could brush against him. Her hand would land on his leg; she wondered if he was as warm as he felt, heating up the expansion of the leather like a furnace.

"Here's your tea, Nancy." Her eyes flashed back up, watching as Kyle entered the room with one hand clenched around a mug, in the other he held a small sugar bowl. Thankfully his eyes were fixed onto the mug, watching in case the liquid got even remotely close to spilling out.

"Thank you." She mumbled, wishing her face wasn't as flushed as it felt. Kyle placed the items onto the coffee table, around the stacks of books. "You're welcome. I just have to grab the milk-" his eyes finally looked up, and shock and anger immediately took over, "Eric!"

His husband jumped up, "What?"

"What the hell are you doing?! She has no space!"

Huffing, Eric sat up, retracting his legs to eat properly.

"It's alright." Nancy protested, eyes lingering on the brunette.

"No it's not, don't defend him, Nancy. If he had his way, he'd be walking around here naked. Doing nothing but laze around all day, eating and sleeping."

"I wouldn't mind that" Nancy whispered, smile worming its way onto her face.

Kyle blinked, mutely staring at her.

"I uh," Nancy cleared her throat, "doing nothing but lazing around. I could use a vacation, you know, with all the kids driving me insane." She awkwardly laughed until Kyle shrugged it off, heading back into the kitchen. "So tell me, Mr...?"

"Cartman." Eric responded, tossing the now empty tin onto the table, "Well, kind of. Just add a shit Jew name before it."

"Jew name?"

"Yeah, Broflovski. That's my _loving_ husband's name." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Neither of us wanted to get rid of our last names, so we had to compromise."

"How" she placed a hand on Eric's knee, " _mature_ of you."

Eric didn't say anything for a moment, eyeing the hand. Quietly he removed it, letting it fall limply back onto her own lap before he continued speaking. "Yeah, Kahl is pretty lucky to have me." He ignored the scoff that came from the other room. "So Nancy tell me, what's the dirt around town?"

"The dirt around town...?"

He rolled his eyes, "You know. Gossip?"

"Oh! Well, let's see..." As she pondered anything interesting to tell this delightful man, Eric took the time to study her. He was definitely getting crazy person vibes from her. Reminiscent of that woman from _Edward Scissorhands._ (The one that has an orgasm when he cuts her hair... Yeah, you know the one..)

Pale blonde hair was cut in a neat bob, going well with her oceanic blue eyes, and the intensity of her bubblegum coloured lipstick. The whole thing reminded Eric of Barbie, considerably if you noted her wardrobe. Ignoring the weather, she wore a fuzzy hot-pink sweater and white capri shorts, completed with matching sandals with bedazzled butterflies and flowers on the sides. How in the ever loving fuck was she not sweating? He rose a brow in question, marveling over the fact as Nancy's small bow shaped mouth quirked to the side.

"Next door from this house is the Brooks, on the right that is. They're an old family, with only two of the sisters left. They have to be in the better part of their eighties, I'll never tell their exact age." She gave a small giggle, "We girls have to keep our own secrets, don't we?" She nudged Eric with her shoulder, winking conspiratorially as she continued. "They make their own lemonade, there's trees in the back. Though I hear they prefer a little something... extra." Nancy rose a hand to her painted mouth, trying to stifle a bout of laughter.

Eric just rolled his eyes, "They like spiked fruity drinks. And..?"

"And... Um, let's see.. Mr. Jordan and Ms. Fowler! They're both on the opposite ends of the streets, and listen, I heard they're..." She peered to the side coyly, grinning when she turned back. She gestured for Eric to come closer, unable to keep her giggle at bay until Eric offered an ear. "...Having relations" she whispered.

He leaned back, second eyebrow joining the other, "Interesting."

Nancy started to fan herself, "They aren't married!" She hissed through a smile.

"Wow," Eric allowed a smile to creep onto his face, knowing that Nancy thought he was praising her as he said, "You must be a real _Nancy Drew_ to find that all out. An honest to God sleuth."

"Oh no!" Nancy waved it off, "Not lil' old me." She held both of her cheeks, pleased as punch. "You really think?"

"Cross my heart."

"Eric, you tease!" She swatted at his chest, blushing and content. Shortly after, Kyle entered the room, now holding a jug of milk and his own mug.

After setting the jug down along with the rest, he leaned upon one of the walls, blowing softly on his coffee. "So Nancy, what do you do for a living?"

Settling down to a more appropriate version of herself, Nancy smiled. It didn't reach her eyes as she addressed Kyle, "I'm a full-time wife."

Eric snorted from the side, "I didn't know that was a paying job." Kyle sent him a scathing look.

"No, it isn't. Couldn't you just imagine!" She gave a dainty laugh, "I spend my day making house for my husband, he just works until exhaustion. The poor angel he is, you wouldn't meet a harder working man."

Kyle hummed lightly as he nodded, surprised when Nancy asked him "And you? What are your occupations? Something with the arts?"

He paused, mug hovering before his mouth. He lowered it. "I, uh, I work as a lawyer and Eric is a police officer."

"My, what two respective law bidding professions. No children?" Kyle didn't have to look away from the floor to know that Eric had tensed, this had been a topic they'd talked about a lot.

"We... we were thinking about adopting locally, maybe a child from the city."

"The city?" Sensing the shift in mood, Nancy voice eased into a hush.

"Eric and I thought I'd be better if we adopt a child from a troubled home, to be able to have structure for them. We..." Kyle's eyes skated over to Eric, "it'd be good for us." He ignored the burning sensation of his throat as he drank his coffee, emotions mixed as he stared at Eric's distant expression.

Nancy jumped up from the couch, startling both men. "Well, I just wanted to welcome you to the neighbourhood!" She smiled politely as Kyle scrambled to put his cup down, unlike Eric, who needed a harsh glare from his husband before he got up.

Finding a place on a stashed end table in the corner, Kyle turned back with a grateful smile. "Thank you so much for coming over! It means a lot to us."

"It's no issue at all, just our way." She shook his hand, teeth flashing. "Which is why I'm inviting you to the Block party, it's tomorrow evening."

"Oh you don't ha-"

"I insist! It'll be wonderful! There will be a potluck, which is always good to have. And maybe games... Oh! And you'll get to meet _my_ husband, and my blessed angels. Billy, Mary, and Susanne. An absolute hoot!"

"I'm certain the whole thing will be amazing, isn't that right, Eric?... Eric?" They watched as his form climbed up the stairs, and disappeared. Seconds later, a door slam echoed. Kyle's stomach dropped, and hurriedly he said goodbye to Nancy before he ushered her out.

Confused and taken aback, she called out "I guess, I'll uh, see you at 5:30 pm!" before the door was shut in her face. As soon as wood separated them, Kyle sighed. He stood there for a few more moments before he drew tight his feelings, and stomped his way upstairs.

As soon as he opened their bedroom door, he said "What the hell was that?!" Eric's back remained facing him, hunched over as he screwed the bits of metal and wood together. He knew Nancy couldn't hear them, but still Kyle shut the door before he continued.

"Do you know how rude you were right now?! Do you?!" Kyle shook his head, "I just... What do you think you'll accomplish from all of this?!" Nothing. "Eric, I'm talking to you. Turn around."

The only response he got was the scraping sound of metal against oak. "Eric" he started tapping his foot, he knew how much his husband hated the sound. "Look at me..."

"Why did you have to tell her"

" _What?"_

"I said," Eric twisted around, "why did you have to tell her?"

"About what? Adoption?"

Eric rolled his eyes, "Who is she that she has the right to know? That crazy bitch probably thinks that we're the last people that should be getting kids."

"You don't know that."

"Don't I? Were you not listening to her? She thought we were some oddity for fucks sake! She thought it was hysterical that some couple wasn't married but were still rolling around in the hay. What the fuck do you think she thought of us?"

Kyle shrugged, crossing his arms as he looked to the side, "Why does any of that matter to you? It never bothered you what others thought before." His gaze returned to his husband when he heard him sigh, barely catching the words, "We should have never came here."

"So that's what this is all about, isn't it? Not about her, but the move?" He shook his head, "I can't believe you! You said you were fine with it!"

Now Eric was climbing onto his feet, dropping his tools as he gestured around them, "Are you blind, Kahl? Do you not see where we live? It's like a fucking ad from the 50's. And last time I checked, that wasn't a good time for us."

This time it was Kyle who rolled his eyes, "I told you this was temporary, Eric. The least you could do was be nice to our neighbours, but you couldn't even do that right. Who knows, maybe they're just like Nancy. Generous, humble, unders-"

* * *

"-tand what I went through, Betty!"

"Oh sweet baby angels, what is it?"

Nancy was currently back home, similar to before she was curled up on the couch, clutching her lime green telephone as she chatted with her best friend. Only this time, the magazine had been forgotten altogether.

"Them! The..." she broke off for a moment before she made sure the room was empty "...gays."

Betty whimpered from disgust and fear on the other end. "Was there a lot of rainbow flags?"

"No, I didn't see any." Nancy waved the question off, then shortly realized that Betty couldn't see her. "But they're all probably packed up still. They must have just a box full of them! Anyway, that's not why I called."

"It isn't?"

"No. 'Cause I talked to them, Betty. I talked! Their names are Kyle and Eric, one is a lawyer and the other a police officer."

"Huh..."

"I know! Kyle, that's the lawyer...is tall but not as big as his husband, he's huge!" Nancy started to giggle, daydreaming of what the young officer was _packing_... It was enough to make even the most seasoned fanfic' writers cringe in displeasure, even as they wrote this very line!(Spooky)

"Like Mr. Jackson two blocks down?"

"Nothing like Mr. Jackson. This man was otherworldly." Another giggle.

"I... like an.. Alien?"

"No, Betty! Are you even listening?! Like, uh, I don't know… Hercules! That's it. From mythology, Zeus' son." Betty inhaled "And no! Not that Disney nonsense." Nancy interrupted with an eye-roll. Again recalling that this conversation was on the phone, and of course her friend couldn't actually see her. She chewed her bottom lip, mulling her thoughts over before she continued with an after thought, "He may be a... a little soft around the stomach, but trust me. He's all man."

"Please! An all man that plays with his foo-er, salad."

"...What?" Sometimes Nancy swore that the stupidity from Betty was contagious, like a disgusting airborne wave of daftness.

"It was a joke. You know, salad?... I mentioned cucumbers before?"

"Don't be crude, Betty! It's unbecoming of a member of the Neighbourhood Watch! Besides, I bet I can win him over with some of the old goods..."

* * *

_Hours later_

A loud yawn escaped Kyle, filling the room with its sound. In the background was the soft buzzing of static, which was coming from their small ancient portable tv set. Thank Moses he never threw it out, it was currently one of the few means of entertainment they currently had in the house.

The curtains were still packed away, somewhere. So currently the tendrils of night were free to spill into the bedroom, washing over the entirety of it in an impenetrable inky veil. What little light came from the pale crescent moon, and the television's glaring screen.

For the past hour Seinfeld had been playing, something that Eric begrudgingly watched. It had something to do with, 'there's only so much Jews I can stand'. The afternoon had been filled with holocaust jokes that were quickly silenced by Kyle's waning patience.

After the bed had been set up, sheets, pillowcases and all, the pair had reluctantly retired for the night. Tension was still high, there was a lot of unresolved issues that would have to wait until tomorrow to be dealt with. But in all honestly, Kyle felt they were making progress. Tiny and painful progress.

He sighed again, stretching himself. Trying to keep his eyes open, he glanced over to the form beside him. Eric had been passed out for hours, undoubtedly drooling on his pillow. And...Kyle's too...Nice. Tiredly, he rolled his eyes. Gently as he shifted, he brushed Eric's bangs out of his eyes. He really did need a haircut, it was getting a bit too long. And he said his 'Jew-fro' was bad! Despite his lingering irritation, and sore pride, Kyle smiled. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against his husband's forehead, snorting when Eric contently mumbled out, "Fuckin'...Jew...bagels..."

Stifling another incessant yawn, Kyle patted his pillow before he settled back. He grabbed the remote and pressed the power button. As soon as complete darkness surrounded the room, he nestled into his husband's side. Comforted by the warmth and security offered there.


	3. Fishy Business

Eric rolled over, sighing softly as an outstretched hand sought the plumpness of his husband's ass under the covers. His fingers met only more of the sheet's silken fabric. Confused and groggy by the influence of sleep, his eyes opened to finding nothing. He sat up, "Babe?"

The shower wasn't running, nor was there the revealing scent of bacon cooking. "Jew?!"

Becoming slightly worried, he peeled back the blankets, shivering as he broke from the tempting confines and headed downstairs.

Wanting to be back in bed with every step, eventually he came to the end of the stairs. Gripping the banister as he tilted his head, listening for any of the telling signs. Like the coffee machine on, brewing with a shrill hiss as it spat scorching hot tar into an awaiting mug. Usually it was the one Eric gave him last year for their mixed holiday bash. When they first moved in together, Kyle threatened to withhold sex until they both celebrated their respective holidays. After a week, reluctantly Eric agreed. But that didn't stop him from getting Kyle a mug that said, _my nose isn't the only thing that's big_. For all of his complaining, Kyle still used it when he made their coffee. After a certain incident that involved a toaster going through a window, Eric was forbidden from going anywhere near the appliances.

"Jew?!" he tried once again, peering inside. Nothing. He cursed, taking a step away from the kitchen doorway. Brow furrowed as panic started to set in, he crossed the hallway in nervous strides. Wrenching on the knob, he flung the front door open so hard that it crashed into the wall. Ignoring the dent and chipped paint, he entered the brightness of the morning.

"Kahl?!" His eyes scanned the surrounding area, heart beat pounding in his ears.

"What?!" Kyle called back, sighing as he paused in his work. He was drowning in weeds, the work the flowerbeds needed never ending. He paused, peering up as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "Oh my god," he whispered, eyes widening.

Grinning at his recovered husband, Eric walked off the front porch and strolled over to him.

"Eric!" Kyle hissed, quick to see if anyone was watching. "I can't believe you, where are..." his words were cut off as he was pulled into a big hug, wet sloppy kisses pressed onto his cheekbones and trailing down to his neck. "Eric, c'mon!" He couldn't help but squirm as those loving kisses were accompanied by the occasional bite. "Not on the front yard! Eric, stop! Someone will see!"

"It hasn't stopped you _before_..."

Kyle groaned, chewing on the inside of his cheek as Eric's pitch lowered. That voice was like melting chocolate, incredibly decadent. Placing a dirty gloved hand onto his husband's face, reluctantly Kyle pushed him away. "For Moses sake!" He gasped, "Please put some pants on, everyone can see your..." he gestured wildly at Eric.

Blinking, his partner lowered his gaze to stare at his own body. "Oh, that explains things."

"...what things?"

"The draft." He shrugged his broad shoulders, pace hurried as he headed back inside, the entirety of his naked figure warmed by the gentle touch of sunlight.

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose, face flushed as he shook his head.

"Quite the show there." He flinched, spinning around to find an elderly woman standing in the yard next door. She leaned heavily on the wooden fence that separated them, "a lot of a man to love."

"That's an understatement." A smile tugged at the corners of his lips when the woman laughed, he crossed over and offered his hand. "Kyle Broflovski-Cartman."

"That's a mouth full. Marcy Brooks." They shook hands over the barrier.

"You're one of the sisters?"

"You've heard of me?"

"Kind of, my husband mentioned a few things he's heard over the grape vines."

"Let me guess, you heard about my lemonade?" His gaze moved to the side. "I'll take that as a yes." Marcy grinned, "I made a fresh batch, want some?"

"I...I shouldn't, he'll" he nodded back to the house, "worry. He always thinks I'll run off and leave him. It wouldn't be good to just disappear after one of his 'episodes', even for five minutes."

"Maybe we should invite him over as well, he sounds like he needs a drink."

Again Kyle found himself smiling, and unable to refuse.

* * *

"That's fucking rad."

Sharply someone exhaled, caused by an elbow to the side. Rubbing at the tender spot, Eric corrected himself, "Ma'am, I appreciate the work you have hanging on your wall."

Marcy laughed, smirking teasingly as she leaned forward. "He's got you on a real tight leash there, 'hun." She watched with a chuckle as Kyle rose a brow at the man seated beside him, daring his husband to comment.

Unable to resist the bait, Eric smiled back. His hand wrapped around his husband's shoulder, taking a moment before drifting down. "Ah, it's nothing I can't handle. Ever so often he acts like he can chain a stud like me." He gave a saucy wink, gaze fixed on his hostess as his hand eventually lowered to…

Kyle snorted, "I've been thinking of getting him neutered. His... _appetite_ is insatiable." He grabbed the hand that had been cupping his ass, dropping it onto the couch with a wry lift of his brow. Eric frowned back at him, reaching again. Kyle swatted his hand away.

"My," both remembered that they had company, "you two are quite a pair." She shook her head, "Just wait until Mady meets you."

"Mady? I'm guessing your elusive sister?" Eric questioned dryly.

Marcy took another sip from her cup, "Beauty and brains. You've got the whole package."

"Not to mention brawns."

"Yeah okay," Kyle sarcastically mumbled, rolling his eyes. This time he got an elbow to the side.

Eyes darting between the pair, Marcy released a forlorn sigh. "Ah, to be young again. You two remind me so much of my late Annette and I." She fondly gazed back to the painting, face softening. She had memorized every marking of that face, but old age had stolen the better part of her memory. If it weren't for the saved photos and letters, she wasn't sure she'd remember what it was like to be with Annette. Only brief flashes of sensation, and scents. She only realized she'd been crying like an old fool when Kyle offered her the tissue box from the coffee table.

"Thank you" she mumbled, taking a sheet and blowing her nose. It sounded like a broken horn, but she was glad that neither commented on it, nor her state. It took a few moments before she could compose herself enough to ask, "Do you want to know how I met my beautiful Annette?"

While she waited for their answer, she briefly studied the hanging image one last time. The edges were blurry, in washed out blues and shades of white. Half turned around, a young woman perhaps in her early to mid twenties, smiled at the artist. Her auburn hair was held up in a clasp, strands escaping around hazel eyes as she peered at the viewer. The thing that stood out the most was her dress, as black and thrilling as night, but alive with a glimmering fabric that made it look like the stars themselves had been sewn in.

The background was made from marble columns, reflections, and tempting thoughts. It had been a gift from a friend, a project that Annette had willingly been the model for. She was like that, always ready to help out, in any way possible.

Both nodded; she took a deep breath.

* * *

"You have to admit is was interesting." Kyle insisted, holding Eric's hand as they walked over to their house.

"Yeah, it was nice. I really liked the part about the polar bear fight."

"Hm, and the diving clowns? It seemed impossible at the time, but then she brought out the shoes!"

"And the skull."

"What?" Kyle blinked back his shock, staring at his husband.

"You didn't see it?"

"See what?"

"Kahl." Eric shook his head, "she had a bear skull sitting on a bookshelf."

"There's no way that was real...You don't think...?"

Eric rose his brow. "You really think she went to the trouble of buying a skull just to lie about her love story to us?"

"You got a point." Kyle mumbled. They walked together in silence, walking down the driveway when he suddenly stopped. Eric sighed at the tug of his arm, he paused, turning to face his disgruntled husband.

"What is it this time?"

"Do you know what today is?"

"Uh, I don't know." He squinted, "garbage day...?"

"No. The potluck, Eric. Remember?"

"Oh shit."

"Exactly. What are we going to do?"

"Excuse me, who said I was going anywhere? I'm staying home, I got a lot of shit to do."

Kyle released his hand, crossing his arms as he cocked his hip to the side. "Like what? Sit on your ass all day, and watch soap operas?"

"Kahl, I told you before. Alien High isn't a soap opera! It's an intellectual show about the strangers inside us all, and the need to find..." His husband wasn't affected in the slightest. "Fuck off, you heartless Jew!"

Kyle rose a brow, "You can swear all you like, you're still coming with me to the grocery store."

"Liking fucking hell I will. I'd rather peel off my own fucking skin the-"

* * *

Eric groaned loudly, dutifully pushing the shopping cart as he followed Kyle. "Oh my _Goooooodddd_ , why are we here?"

"I told you," Kyle intoned, "we need ingredients for the dishes I'm making."

"Can't we just _buy_ something?"

"No, because that's just trashy. And I refuse to do something so...tasteless." He grabbed a watermelon from a fruit stand, testing the heft of its weight. Satisfied, he placed it into the cart. Grabbing the pen from his pocket, he crossed out another item. "Besides, walking around will do you some good. You need to lose some pounds."

Eric heavily leaned against the cart, "Stop body-shaming me, Jew."

Kyle rolled his eyes in response, "We are not having this talk again. You need to exercise more, and that's final. And no," he cut off, watching as Eric slowly closed his mouth, "24/7 sex is not the answer."

"You act like the idea was bad!"

"What made it bad was the part when you got arrested."

"How was that my fault?"

"You..." Kyle made sure that no one was listening, and then hissed, "hit a cop in the face with a dildo!"

"Again, how was that my fault? He over reacted, we didn't even use it!"

Kyle rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to their list. "You were in the wrong, and you know it. Okay, I'm making Gefilte fish, Kugel, and maybe a dessert." He frowned at his husband's expression, "What?"

"I hate Gefilte, it's disgusting."

"Fine, don't eat it. At least I'm making something."

"I'm bringing something."

Kyle's eyes narrowed, "Yeah? Like what?"

It was as if he'd been waiting all day for him to ask. "I'll have you know I'm making a classic American dessert."

Unamused, Kyle lifted a brow, "And that is...?"

"A Jello mold."

"Uh, huh..."

"Don't mock my jello mold, Kahl."

"Let's just finish buying the ingredients, then you can go crazy with your jello."

* * *

It took an hour of squabbling, but they almost had all of the items. The only thing left was the fish.

Groaning loudly, Eric rolled the cart back and forth as he waited. "Hurry up, I'm _dyyyyyyingggg_ over here!"

"If only" Kyle mumbled, leaning over the seafood section. He hummed, surveying the variety of fish, kept cool by the crushed ice underneath. "What do you think, Eric? Pike or carp? Hmm..." He trailed off, "Maybe I should use whitefish this time" he whispered to himself.

"I don't care! It'll just taste the same, like someone pissed out the sea."

Kyle glared, now fully ignoring his partner. He drummed his fingers on the glass, anxiously mulling over his choices. The staff member over the counter watched on, bored out of his mind. He just wanted to go on his lunch break.

Equally bored was Eric, eyes dully taking in the remainder of the fish. He'd already gotten his jello, he didn't care. Besides, he wasn't allowed to get the crab and butter he wanted. He had to lose weight; he rolled his eyes. Suddenly, a thought struck him.

Grinning he left the cart and lumbered up to a stand of whole frozen fish, settling on a particular one. Darting his gaze to the staff and Kyle, he picked it up, testing its weight.

It felt like a bat, it was perfect. Smirk widening, he crept around the cart and up to his husband. Who currently was engrossed on his selection, giving the perfect opportunity by leaning forward to inspect their condition better. The staff member glanced up, eyes widening as his mouth parted in disbelief.

**_SMACK_ **

Chuckling, Eric took a step back, "You should get in the _halibut_ of being faster with your choices...Haha-" Kyle slowly turned around "haha...uh, Kahl?"

* * *

They silently stood in the parking lot, sky overhead a clear summertime blue. Trunk to their car open, they packed the groceries away. A scowl was a permanent fixture on Kyle's face, putting the pike in, then the halibut. They had been forced to buy it, which only increased Kyle's anger.

Eric opened his mouth, then he thought better of it, and mutely pushed the empty cart into its correl. Crossing the parking lot back to their car, he slipped into the driver seat, keying the ignition as his husband slammed the trunk shut. His body tensed, waiting until Kyle got into the passenger seat before he put the car in reverse.

Making sure there wasn't any upcoming vehicles, or that he would hit anything, he switched gears. Driving smoothly, Eric glanced to the side. He decided keeping his balls was far more important than his pride, "Did I mention that I was sorry?"

* * *

"There's no need to apologize!" Nancy clasped her hands together, delighted. "Please, just come straight in!"

Shuffling awkwardly, they took a step into a different realm. Inside the house was filled with people talking, voices barely acknowledgeable above the Frank Sinatra record that was playing.

"You can set those tasty little numbers in the kitchen." She ushered the pair down the hallway, and apprehensively their eyes took in their surroundings. It was impossibly clean and organized, like they were on set of a magazine shoot. Kyle furrowed his brow, self conscious of their home.

"I've got a crush on you"

"Pardon?" Nancy smiled brightly, hand lingering on Eric's arm. Kyle stared at it, anger plucking at the corners of his mind.

"The song that's playing." Eric rolled his eyes, but didn't seem to mind the touch. Kyle's eyes narrowed.

"Oh! And here we are!" Gesturing to the room attached to the living room. The linoleum tiles underfoot were checkered, matching the smoothness of the white counters. Well accented with powder blue walls and cherry red appliances. Kyle hated it, especially the vase of flowers beside the toaster. "Now don't let me keep you, I'm going to mingle. You should do the same." She winked at Eric, leaving the pair alone.

Seething, Kyle set the dishes he carried down, keeping the tin foil on. Placing his covered jello next to his husband's, Eric frowned at his Jew's expression.

"Babe, you okay?"

"Hm.." He fiddled with the trays until they were straight. His body tensed, feeling something warm and wet against his neck. It was near impossible to keep from smiling, tilting his head to the side, as Eric continued kissing.

"Do you want to ditch this nuketown?"

"Nuketown?" Kyle turned around, embraced with a smirk. He dryly stared, permitting a kiss or two against his cheekbones as he was held closer.

"Did you see where we are? I'm totally getting Indiana Jones vibes here."

" _Kingdom of the Crystal Skull?"_  He snorted when Eric bent to kiss the side of his neck, "Not to rain on your parade, but I don't think we can both fit in the fridge."

"You'd be surprised..."

He felt flushed, especially when _that_ voice was crooning suggestively in his ear. "Don't start something you can't finish" he mumbled, eyeing the doorway. He took a step back, nudging his husband. Reluctantly, he was freed.

"Why isn't it the lovebirds! I'm surprised you showed up at all."

"It's nice seeing you again, Marcy."

She smiled brightly, "Likewise. I have someone who is dying to meet you." Before either could respond, she was grasping Kyle's arm and pulling him out of the room.

Bewildered, he glanced at Eric, thankful to see him following. They had just stepped out of the kitchen, when Nancy intercepted them.

"Marcy, nice to see you as always. Kyle, may I borrow your man? I have some things that need fixing, and I can't find my Adam."

"I-"

"Perfect!" Already her claws were sunk into Eric, dragging him with a dazzling smile. Kyle opened his mouth to complain, but was cut off by a hiss of disgust from Marcy.

"Hopefully nothing bad happens."

"Don't worry, Eric won't try anything on Mrs. Jones."

Marcy grimaced, "I was worried for your husband, not that she-devil."

"What do you mean?"

* * *

Satisfied when Kyle was distracted enough, Betty snuck into the kitchen, with two of her gal pals.

"Are you sure we should be doing this?"

She scoffed, "There's nothing illegal about seeing what those two made, Sandra."

"I think she's right, Betty."

"Will you two just relax!" Frowning, she walked up to the counter, taking the tupperware off of a dome shaped dish.

"What is it?" They leaned over her shoulder, staring.

She shook it lightly, watching as it jiggled. "Jello."

"Jello?" They all looked at one another, all thinking the same thing: _Huh, that's pretty normal._

"But wait, there's something in it" Barbara pointed out.

And true enough there was, inside the electric blue gelatin mass there was a black form. They squinted; Betty shook the dessert again. On a string, there seemed to be black balls that ranged in size from pea small to an almost golf ball large.

"That's the strangest fruit I've ever seen." They all nodded.

Smirk crawling onto her face, Betty opened a drawer, and rummaged for something.

"Betty!" Sandra whispered, "What are you doing?!"

She faced them with three spoons in her hand, "I think we should find out what it is. It might be some new super fruit from the city, and we can't let those two keep it for themselves, can we?"


	4. Emetophilia

For a second Eric’s body was frozen with unease, helplessly fixated on the sight before him. Beyond the glow of the hallway the room was cast in darkness. The only thing keeping the inky veil at bay was the television, screen hissing with the crackle of static.

Slowly Eric turned to his hostess, “You want me to go in there…?”

Nancy nodded, smile not helping in the slightest.

“Yeah, no.” He spun on his heel, fully ready to find his husband. The talons digging into his arm, however, weren’t helping matters.

“Please, Eric! I _reallllllllyyyy_ need your help.” Nancy’s hand drifting down, the sharp points of her fingernails scraped against the skin of his arm, causing white lines to emerge. He shuddered at the sensation, shaking free of her grasp.

“What, and be some sacrifice for a demonic blood pact? No thank you. As soon as I step in there, some creepy little girl in a white dress will try to jump me.” He rose a brow at her confused expression, “Samara Morgan? Haven’t you seen the Ring…?” _Of course she hasn't._

To escape this awkward situation, he stepped into the void. “Jesus,” he mumbled “what’s the deal with these nut-jobs."  Blindly his hand brushed against the wall, eventually finding the light switch. It only took a few seconds until his eyes adjusted to the brightness, quickly surveying the room around him. The layout was decorated in the same retro style as the rest of the house, insanely tidy - like someone had too much time on their hands. Absently he swiped his finger along the surface of the night table, next to the bed, scoffing when it came back dust free.

All too aware of the eyes locked onto him, Eric crossed over to the t.v., shoving it forward so he had enough space to kneel behind it. He grumbled when his knees made a horrible cracking sound, deep within the joints. “Kill me now” he mumbled, wishing he was back home, watching Alien High in his comfy bed. Tammy and Veronica were supposed to go to Probe-coming together in this latest episode, and instead of enjoying it he was here, for God knows how long.

* * *

It was hard ignoring his concern, but he tried anyways. Not that Marcy wasn’t doing her best to make him feel welcomed, but Kyle couldn’t help but notice the lingering stares from the other guests. They gave off the impression that he was some weirdo, as easily identifiable in his casual clothing than if he was painted in rainbows.

Wordlessly he filled his cup with more of the punch, undoubtedly spiked. Kyle’s slight buzz clearly confirmed that suspicion, but not his theories as to why it was taking so long for Eric to return. Marcy hadn’t really told him anything, just ushered him into some corner; both literal and metaphorical.

Maybe it was because she was embarrassed over her neighbours obvious whispers and gawking, or perhaps she was ashamed of Kyle, and his open relationship. Either way, he didn’t care. Not wanting to dwell on it, he took another lengthy sip from his cup.

“I was starting to think you were avoiding me, Marcy.”

He frowned when he glanced up,  watching as this stranger cut off Marcy’s attempt at small talk. She was relatively the same height as his companion, maybe an inch or two taller. The trivial information that he gathered, however, didn’t matter. In a second he realized she was Mady, thickly wrapped in layers of clothing that made her look bigger than she actually was. Though her hands seemed to shake with every breath, and her skin was etched and gnarled, Kyle was captivated by the strength in her eyes.

They made her appear younger, alight with a fire that had Kyle unknowingly smiling.

_She’d get along with Eric_ , he thought.

“Of course I’m not, I’ve been here the whole time! It’s not my fault you’re blind.”

With a loud scoff, Mady gently smacked her sister’s hand. “Be nice!” her gaze slid over, “And who’s this handsome man beside you?” She gave a lazy wink, smirking as she said, “I don’t think we’ve been introduced? I’m Mady Brookes, the good-looking one.”

“No we haven’t; Kyle Broflovski-Cartman.” He gently shook her hand.

Mady turned to her sister, “I can’t believe you were hoarding this eye-candy all to yourself!”

“Don’t flatter yourself Mady, it won’t help.”

Cringing at the sister’s conversation, Kyle quickly polished off the rest of his drink.  Cup empty, he mumbled an apology, making his way over to the drink table before they could say anything. Just like its surroundings, the punch bowl was delicate, made from a heavy crystal. Of course it matched the cups, roses engraved into the sides with feathery lines.

Grabbing the ladle, he scooped up some of the plum coloured liquid. Mindful of it sloshing, Kyle glanced over his shoulder. Still no Eric, where the fuck was he?

* * *

Back in the kitchen, Betty, Barbara, and Sandra made easy work of the jello, each taking huge chunks with a slice of their spoons. Neither of them were surprised with the taste, it was typical stuff. The kind you served in little cups at a child’s birthday party, with a dollop of whipped cream on top - overly sugary.

And yet, Betty was the first to reach the ‘fruit’, and went as far as to try to cut the string attaching it together. She frowned when her spoon couldn’t go through, it was a shock, she had thought it’d be soft like the rest of the dessert. While her two friends were busy swallowing their mouthfuls, she tentatively touched the uncovered portion. It was hard like a stone, but slippery from its surroundings. Confused, she immediately reasoned it was similar to other fruits with a hard surface, for instance, a coconut. You just had to crack it open.

Placing her spoon momentarily on the counter, she grasp a hold of one of the sphere parts, thankfully the one the size of a pea. Leaning down so she could put it in her mouth, she bit down.

“Shit!” She cursed, jaw aching.

“Are you okay, Betty?” Sandra whispered, turned timid by the loudness of her friend’s voice.

“It’s like a jawbreaker” she mumbled back, cringing at the bland taste. She could have gotten the same effect by biting into a rain boot.

“Try sucking on it ~~_like a dick_~~.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Sandra.” And in a move she’d later regret, she drew more of the peculiar fruit into her mouth, unaware that specks of vibrant blue jello decorated the corners of her mouth. Barbara and Sandra could do little but watch on.

* * *

Eric Broflovski-Cartman, technological expert. Once again he had saved the day, soon having the television flickering back to life. That’s what he told himself, glossing over the fact that it had taken him a full five minutes to realize that a single plug had fallen out. He wasn’t embarrassed that it took that long, not at all..

Nancy didn’t seem to mind, she still gave an over exaggerated cheer. As loud as if he’d done something actually useful like cure cancer, instead of getting a piece of shit t.v. to work. The sound of the broadcasting channel, the image of a blazing fireplace, filled the room. It made Eric’s groans muffled, something he was pleased about as he climbed up from behind the t.v.

Not thinking too much as to why Nancy needed the television on during a party(especially in a closed off room), he lumbered over to the bed, happily sighing as he laid down. His aching back was eagerly cradled by the mattress, touched as gently as if an angel was holding his spine. He was so bewitched by the sensation, that it made the action of lifting his head a million times harder.

_How did she even find it? I thought it only came on during the holidays?_  Eric thought as he stared at the filmed fireplace.

The spitting of the fire was loud, to the point where Eric remained oblivious as the door softly closed. Hushed by the carpet, the only thing that had Eric remembering Nancy was still in the room is when she whispered, “I can’t thank you enough for helping me.”

“Don’t mention it,” Eric yawned. Kyle would have his balls if he wasn’t polite, that’s the only reason he was here.

“You’re too kind.”

Eric snorted, he was anything but that. He turned his head to the side, amused state leaving him unsuspecting. His heart stopped as he jolted, he hadn’t expected her to be right beside him - face inches away as she leaned down.

“...You’re, ah… really stepping into my bubble.. Aren’t you?” The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, causing him to frown as he tried to sit up. Key word there, _tried_. Nancy’s hand shoving at the middle of his chest stopped that movement just as it had begun.  Bewildered, Eric froze as his hostess climbed over him, seating herself squarely on his lap. “Uhh…” he glanced around the room, “am I on some candid show? I’m being filmed right now, this is some stupid prank?”

“Oh, Eric, always a joker.” Nancy’s smile deepened, “I’m just trying to give you a reward.”

The severity of this situation finally dawned on him, “Yeah no.. I think you skipped your meds’ you crazy broad, but I’m not about to-” She pressed her finger against his mouth, catching him off guard as her other hand reached for the front of her white blouse, slowly unbuttoning it until her pink ruffled bra was revealed.

He squinted, _holy shit why is her underwear from the eighties? It’s like she played some bitchy prom queen, but stole the clothes from the set._ The whole time he found everything highly unappealing, even when she ground herself downwards. In fact his dick was probably sucked into his body, never to be seen again.

Sick of this insane person dry humping him, he slapped the hand away from his mouth.  Being fucking awesome, it wasn’t that hard to overpower Nancy and shove her off. The only thing that still linked them together was her legs wound around his waist, which tightened to a vise when he moved them. The unexpected strength behind it had him gasping, pain digging into his hips until he bent forward.

“C’mon get the fuck off!” He hissed.

Nancy’s eyes had turned wild, losing her once well put together appearance. Hair a mess and shirt caught between her elbows, her nails broke the skin of Eric’s back. “I swear to God,” he grunted, “If you don’t get off I’ll break your fucking nose!” Their stuck bodies fueled his rage, the gasoline to the destructive anger of having fingernails buried into your flesh. The fact that his shirt had no protective qualities already had him gritting his teeth.

“Eric stop lying,” Nancy whined, “I know you want me. I see how you look at me..”

There was only one thought running through his mind, _I'm going to kill-_

* * *

_him.._

Kyle took another swig, finalizing his commitment. With a heavy heart he set his cup down onto whatever surface his foggy mind could find, only partially stumbling. He pushed the reality of his state back, that he had gotten hopelessly drunk at some block party.

Pissed and frustrated, he reasoned there was only one thing to do. To find his husband and fuck him in some closet, there he’d maybe get some satisfaction. It wouldn’t take much to convince Eric, he was always more than happy to mess with people - especially if sex was added to the mix. The problem was finding him, that was a whole other story.

Dragging his feet, he weaved through a crowd of people, solely focused on not falling flat on his face. Everyone blurred together, a series of faces that he forgot as soon as he looked away. He was more fixated on making a checklist of the rooms he visited, each getting a frown as he looked inside.

Living room? No.

Dining room? No.

Kitchen? No one was in there but a group of women, suspiciously huddled in the corner. He moved on.

Backyard? No.

Bathroom(s)? Of course not.

Office? Zilch.

Kid’s bedrooms? Nope.

And finally, the master bedroom. If Eric wasn’t there Kyle was going to rip his hair out and scream, he had officially run out of places to look. Not bothering to knock, he swung the door open and started to call out, “Eric get your ass in--”

Nancy was laying on the bed, that didn’t surprise him, this was her house after all. What took him aback was the sight of his husband, hovering over her panting body. Their locked form froze, eyes wide as they both stared at Kyle.

Eric was the first to comprehend how to speak, floundering for a second with an opened mouth before his voice came back.

 “K-Kyle, I know this is a cliche, but this isn’t what it looks like…” Distracted, Nancy’s legs easily slipped off of Eric when he tugged on them. On his way to getting out of the bed, Eric tripped, crashing to the ground.

“Fuck!” He couldn’t let it deter him, wincing he forced himself to get back onto his feet. “You know I don’t..” Exasperated by his husband’s blank expression and persisting silence, he suddenly snapped, “Kyle I don’t like chicks! You fucking know this!” He grasped the dazed man’s hand, “Babe c’mon.. Talk to me!”

The warmth of a hand shook Kyle of his daze, wordlessly his grip crushed Eric’s. Resonating gasp piercing his chest, Kyle held Eric’s sounds deep within him. It drove his feet to the door, dragging the other along as he made his leave.

“Wait!” He paused at the scramble of feet clattering, upon them in an instant. Nancy was pressed against Eric, fingers hooking into the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t understand! He came onto _me!"_ The dazzling blues of her eyes were begging him to listen, desperate for it.

“What?” Eric choked, caught off guard.

Later he’d regret it, not because of the action but of the shitstorm that would approach. Noiselessly he turned around, striking the face next to Eric’s shoulder. He didn’t wait to listen to the crying, nor did he watch as she crumpled to the floor, nose erupting in a stream of red.

Eric sputtering was enough for Kyle, once again robbed of his vocal abilities as he was dragged from the bedroom and down the hallway.

“Dude” Eric croaked; _what the fuck…_ The hand around his wrist made him wince, but he wouldn’t dare adjust it. Not even when Kyle awkwardly rounded corners in a jarring sway, close to clipping the walls. He figured it best not to spur him on further.

Crossing the living room had them passing the joined kitchen, a path for a panicking woman to intersect. Directly cutting them off, Kyle and Eric came to a confusing halt. Even more so when the woman hunched over, grasping at her throat. Immediately Eric recognized what was dangling from her mouth; Gurgling around the stringed object, Betty frantically sought help, vision clouded by her tears.

Without thinking Kyle grabbed the end, and yanked it down in one swift movement. Indifferent he stepped around the woman, now kneeling over as she violently retched. The contents of her stomach were tinged blue, sugary scent clashing with the acidic bile had others covering their noses.

No one noticed as the door slammed shut behind the Broflovski-Cartmans, the guests too preoccupied with crowding around Betty, while Barbara and Sandra knelt by her side. And like a cruel joke, the anal beads remained in a puddle of spit and vomit. Somewhere in the background, the record skipped.


	5. The Morning After

Waking up that morning reminded Kyle why he didn’t drink, not usually. Most of the time he was the responsible one, someone had to be with a spouse like Eric, the man never slowed down. Always in motion...always cupping a feel…

He swallowed heavily, pushing back the bile burning his throat. God, he was getting too old for this. Rolling onto his back, Kyle pushed the heel of his palms into his eyes. If he could wish for one thing at this moment, besides for a tube of toothpaste, it’ll be for the sun to just _disappear_. They hadn’t unboxed a lot of their linens yet, only the bedding and a couple towels, so one of Eric’s shirts was hanging from the curtain rods. And it was doing nothing to block out the fact that it was morning...noon? Who the hell knows anymore.

Unsteadily Kyle dragged himself from his bed, his body feeling like it was weighed down by rocks. The trip to the bathroom was embarrassingly clumsy, thankfully his ever loving husband couldn’t see him now.

Kyle avoided looking at the mirror, he didn’t need to confirm the obvious that he looked like shit. He already could feel it, how could you not with your eyes partially sealed with some disgusting crust? The type you get after sleeping too long, or waking up from a bad night. All of which Kyle could check off. Ah, what a wonderful life he has.

Chilled water poured from the faucet, sound incredibly aggravating.  He was just as hunched over from the pain of it as the need to wash the grossness away. When his face was finally dripping wet, Kyle scooped water into his mouth until both cheeks bulged. It was like death was resting on his tongue, that is, if death was the aftertaste of day old fruit punch, cheap alcohol, and vomit. He spat into the sink, cringing before it was washed away.

It was even worse when he contemplated using his toothbrush, he shook his head. He’d have to buy a new one immediately after, and he wasn’t exactly in the mood to drive to some grocery. Everyone would probably stare, knowing he’s the gay guy that got drunk at Nancy’s stupid block party, then broke her nose. Fucking Nancy; the details of last night might be a little hazy, but he certainly remembered her hands all over Eric. Kyle’s knuckles became white, tightened around the sides of the sink until they hurt.

Kyle pretended that he didn’t yelp when a hand was pressed into the small of his back, and that it sent him a foot into the air.

Eric bit back a snicker, barely. “Sorry” he mumbled, grin saying anything but that. “You okay?”

Kyle wanted to snap at him, but the thought of yesterday came rushing back to his mind. Shit, that’s what he should be asking. Watching the dip in his husband’s emotions, one of Eric’s brows rose. “Babe?”

“Yeah I’m…” _fine, how are you doing? You know, you only just got sexually assaulted yesterday, but can you pass me the shaving cream?_

Pushing down his concern, Eric held a bulky light blue bottle and a pencil thin object. Kyle stared at his hand for a second before accepting the items. “I know how you get in the morning after a couple of drinks, so I figured…” Mouthwash and a new toothbrush, it was even the brands he preferred.

Kyle was so impressed and pleased, he was tempted to kiss Eric right then and there. God, he wanted to, but Eric wouldn’t have been that happy with the current state of his mouth.

 _Fuck it._ He fumbled with the plastic wrapping before he could get the bottle open, dropping the toothbrush in his haste. It spilled more onto the floor than into the lid, before he got a cupful of the stuff into his mouth. Too much, if he went by the intense flavour of mint and the slight burning. Eric watched as he rolled the liquid around in his puffy cheeks, wordless as a big gob of blue spit landed in the sink.

He began to think Kyle was high, when his ability to reason was cut loose. Kyle reached up, yanking him down by his shoulders. Not that he didn’t like kissing his husband, Eric could spend whole days doing nothing but that. Kissing him was just as easy as breathing, and just as hard to live without. But honestly, all of this mint had an itching pressure build right up in his sinuses. And as much as he loved the whole spontaneous making out, he did _NOT_ want to sneeze directly in Kyle’s face. That would have him ending up a week on the couch, and that was something his back _could not_ take. So he did the only thing he could think of while Kyle’s tongue was doing delicious things. He slapped his hand to side of Kyle’s face, and pushed it to the side.

“Wha--” Kyle started, but then immediately stopped. His face scrunched up, eyes closing hard as what felt like a spray grazed his right cheek. Vision limited to their bathtub and its Stars Wars themed shower curtain. A carbonite Han Solo that Kyle couldn’t say no to. Right now it felt like the handsome smuggler was mocking him.

 “Did you just…”

“Ugh” Eric groaned, wiping his nose on the fabric of his white dress up shirt. “Sweet baby Jesus that was intense.”

Face set into a glare, Kyle pointedly dragged the back of his hand against his cheek. “Jesus had nothing to do with that.”

“Babe, don’t be like that.” Sighing softly, Kyle brushed past Eric to the medicine cabinet. Catching a glimpse of his expression as he popped open the mirror, of course he looked annoyed. That seemed to be his go to look nowadays.

“I’m not doing anything,” he grabbed a bottle of tylenol from one of the shelves, “can we just forget it?”

“That’s what you say, but tonight when I’m chopping onions or carrots I’ll get yelled at for no reason.”

“When have I ever seen you cut an onion?”

“I don’t know, Kahl, I like planning for the future.” Kyle rolled his eyes, struggling to get the cap off. “Speaking of which, I can tell you your future for the next half an hour.”

 _Finally;_ the lid came off with a loud ‘pop’, allowing Kyle to place a desperately needed pill in his mouth. He hadn’t been entirely listening when he said, “Oh really?”

A shiver broke down his spine as he felt a warm pair of lips press into his neck, slowly trailing down. Determined to hold his composure, Kyle put the cap back on the tylenol and stuck it into the cabinet. Even though he could feel Eric, knew without any trace of doubt he was present by the hand sliding up his rumpled shirt and the hips leaning heavily into his ass, it was a little jarring to actually see him in the reflection. Kyle only momentarily paused, flushed at the image caught in the mirror.

He watched as a large hand unbuttoned the tops of his jeans, teasing in the lavish attitude behind their movement. Kyle braced his body with two hands on the sink, eyes squinting as the plumes of the hot air coming from his mouth fogged up the glass. The flash of teeth glinted, peering out as Eric nibbled at a tendon in his throat. Like he was sampling him, Eric had always been obsessed with mixing together sex and food.

“Do we really need to do this here?” Not that he really meant it, but it was hard to have any weight in his tone when a hand was worming into his pants.

Eric scoffed, more amused than to ridicule. “You’re the one who was so handsy, I had to fend you off the whole night.” A tongue lapped at a particular large bruise, easing any discomfort with broad strokes. “Not like I’d take advantage of an incredibly hot and drunk Kahl,” he mumbled, “had to suffer with blue balls.”

“Poor you,” Kyle halfheartedly rolled his eyes.

“Mhm..”

“But shouldn’t you be getting ready? I thought it was your first day at the station…?” Eric stilled, then he shrugged.

“Eric,” Kyle warned, hoping his voice held an authoritative edge. Of course it didn’t, not with the back of his neck rising in heat. “You should-” Kyle softly moaned, “care more.”

“I care plenty” Eric protested, rolling his hips to get his point across. Kyle snorted, reaching behind him to pull his husband’s head down by his brunette locks. Just as things were getting good, the pair jolted at a vibration emitting from one of Eric’s pant pockets.

“Fuck,” the detective hissed, shoving a hand between them. Kyle frowned, sulking as he looked off to the side.

Eric fished the cell out, staring blankly at the screen before he answered the call. “Hello, Cartman?” He glanced to his moody husband, “Er… Broflovski-Cartman?” Kyle pretended not to listen, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, yeah I’m coming. No I know.. How many…? Okay, give me ten. Thanks.” He hung up, swearing as he put the cell back.

“Work?”

“Yup.” Disappointed, Kyle moved to the side, ready for Eric to head out. But a palm pressed into the small of his back, having him bend forward.

“What are you doing?” Kyle asked as he frowned over his shoulder. Eric had that cheeky grin on his face, he thought he was so clever.

“I told them I’d be coming, but not the way they thought I meant.” His zipper went down. Kyle owlishly blinked at the implication; he smiled. A haggard reflection greeted him as he turned to face the mirror, “You better be quick then.”

* * *

Seven minutes later, Eric strolled from the house a man deeply satisfied. The distraction had been entirely worth it and more, he should of thought about this sooner. As he unlocked his car, he lifted his head, offering a wave to the two elderly women on the neighbouring front porch. They gently waved back.

Unable to help himself, Eric smiled, maybe this place could actually start to feel like home. The car gave a low beep as it opened, one of the few background noises as he cast a glance to house across from them. The Jones'; he sneered.

Unaware as he climbed in that his husband watched from the bedroom window, completely oblivious and delightfully sore.

 

Eric slipped in his copy of the Muse’s _Origin of Symmetry_ , skipping through the tracks until the familiar tune of _Feeling Good_ began to play. Matt Bellamy crooned as Eric tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, music slipping out of the rolled down window as he drove from his quiet neighbourhood and onto the main road.

_Birds flying high_

_You know how I feel_

_Sun in the sky_

 It was a hopeless attempt at distracting himself from the scene that kept replaying in his head. 

_You know how I feel..._

* * *

_Last night_

By the time they managed to stumble outside, the sky was rich with darkness. It only felt like they spent half an hour at the party, but time sure does pass when you’re getting groped by a crazy woman.

 Eric sighed, allowing himself to be pulled from the train-wreck of a party and across the road. The only sound aside from the rustling of nearby tree leaves was the remnants of the festivities, dwindled to a record being stuck on a loop and shrieks of horror.

The lamps that lined the streets shone like fireflies in the night, soon accompanied when confused and concerned families turned on the lights in their houses. God, what a fucking nightmare this has been. What made things ten times worse was the unnerving silence, leaving Eric to helplessly stare at the back of a head full of russet curls.

The hairs on his arms stood up on end when they reached the front porch, wooden steps sharply creaking at the slightest touch, especially if a three hundred-some-odd pound man was involved. Giving a larger shudder, he became covered in goosebumps. It felt like they were in a horror film, a sensation Eric was unused too. He was far more familiar with playing the villain role than a victim.

“Babe,” he whispered, clearing his throat when Kyle suddenly dropped his hand. Shrouded in shadows, the redhead fumbled with the doorknob, forgetting that they had locked it in his drunken stupor.

With his brow creased, Eric reached into his pocket, taking out a key chain and wordlessly flipping to the key to the door. Deciding he didn’t want to be there the whole night, he gently moved Kyle to the side, easily slipping it in the lock and opening the door with a loud _click_.

And being the true gentleman that Kyle never accused him of being, he even made room from his spouse to enter first. Of course he wasn't thanked, but Kyle was in a state of mind where that could be forgiven. "Watch your step," he warned, hurrying in to reach the light-switch. 

A loud clatter and something being bumped into was mingled together with a "Shit!"

Eric rolled his eyes, "I told you to be careful." The lights turned on, bright enough to blind the pair. Glaring against the intensity of the fixture, Eric closed the door before heading over to the place where Kyle had fallen.

"Who the fuck put this here?" Kyle snapped, angrily kicking the box away from him. Eric bit his bottom lip, he knew Kyle himself had moved it to the side of the hallway this very morning, but figured he probably shouldn't mention it. At least not tonight or the morning after. Instead he knelt by his cursing husband, brushing some of the curls from his eyes and asking, "You okay? Nothing broken?" _Unlike the glass in that box..._

Kyle swatted his hand away, "I'm fine, no thanks to you." Eric gulped down the anger that swelled in his chest, swallowing the venom he wanted to spout out. 

"Let's get you to bed." Kyle began to protest, but he still wrapped his arms around the other man's waist, making sure not to go too fast. Kyle hated getting dizzy, he had a habit of vomiting on the things closest to him. Which unfortunately tended to be Eric, he hoped tonight wouldn't be one of those moments. He had enough of puke for today, thank you very much.

Keeping a firm grip on the shorter man, Eric steered them to the staircase. "Slow and steady," he mumbled when they climbed the first step, "don't be afraid to lean on me."

"I'm not a child." 

"Trust me, a child would be less of a hassle."

"You're such a smart ass."

He was happy when Kyle fell silent, wanting to completely focus on getting them to their destination. It wasn't like Eric couldn't physically carry his partner, he'd proven that feat time and time again. The real challenge came to having his shirt remain bile-free, the constant desire of such coming from the shade of green his significant other was donning. When they reached the bedroom, Kyle apparently deemed it safe enough to complain again.

"I don't know why we're here, I'm not even tired."

"Trust me, you've been moving shit all day, you're bound to be exhausted. You just don't know it yet because you're jumped up on adrenaline from kung fu punching that bleach blonde bitch, which was totally fucking awesome by the way." Avoiding Kyle's eyes, he helped him into the bed, drawing back the blankets and sheets.

"Eric."

He paused, feeling a hand touch the nape of his neck. "Yes?" He looked down. Kyle was staring at him, glassy eyes shining in the dim lighting. 

"I'm not tired."  _Holy fucking shit_. That hand resting on his neck trailed its fingers across, nails just barely scratching the skin. Shit, Kyle knew how much he liked stuff like this. The only thing that kept him from pouncing on the other was that he wasn't a fan of having sex with his husband, not when he was so drunk he could barely walk. 

"Are you..." he swallowed on reflex, trying to get some moisture in his mouth,"trying to _seduce_ me?"

"Why, is it working?" A smirk eased on to Kyle's face, almost mocking in this light.

"Not when you smell like a beer store," he said, only partially lying. He removed the hand from him, "look what you need is some rest."

"I know what I want." That hand continued its pursuit, landing on the bed to only inch to one of Eric's thighs, invitingly getting it a squeeze.

"Okay!" Eric abruptly stood up, sucking in a breath. _Do not fuck him do not fuck him do not fu-_ "I'll see you in the morning, I have to get up early."

" _Eric_."

Certainly not fleeing the room, he firmly shut the door behind him. He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. From inside the room he could hear Kyle grumbling for a few moments before the mattress creaked, thankfully Kyle didn't follow after him. There was a limit to Eric's morality, and with his semi-on he wasn't in the best condition to test its boundaries. 

Satisfied with the silence, he crossed the corridor to the bathroom. "Great," he whispered to himself, annoyed as he said "I'm going to have to jerk off like a complete fucking loser." 

The knowledge of such was solidified by him stepping into the bathroom, softly shutting the door closed and immediately popping the button on his pants. After that was done he brought his hand to the side of the wall, blindly searching for the light. He moved on to his zipper when everything was suddenly doused in artificial lighting, taking a couple of steps to the toilet.

Sitting down with a huff, Eric closed his eyes. "What has my life turned into.."

Even with a ridiculous situation like this, one thing stood out in the forefront of Eric's mind. Tonight had been an embarrassment, one that he simply wasn't going to let go. Treating him like a piece of meat was one thing, but to be the cause of Kyle acting like that? Nancy Jones and her little posse were officially on his list, and that meant they might as well be dead. 


	6. Part One

_**Part One: The Squashed Spider**_

Eric had mastered pettiness to a science, crafting it until it suited all of his revengeful schemes. And true to being one of the best, he knew how sometimes you had to be subtle to achieve the right affect.

Days turned into weeks, until eventually a few months passed. Patiently he waited, biding his time, enjoying as all of the pieces fell into place.

He wiped the back of his gloved hand against his forehead, scowling after he glanced at it - covered in dirt and now sweat. Christ, he hated the heat. He wasn’t meant for this weather, far more suited for snowy mountain terrain. But no, he just _had_ to follow his dick.

Unable to help but glance at the big window on the front of the house, parted curtains allowing him to see straight into the living room. Kyle was sitting on the couch, reclining as he typed away at his laptop, oblivious to the attention. The poor fucker hadn’t adjusted well to his new job, everyone at the firm was constantly setting him on edge with their indifference. It seemed that a lot of his co-workers had Adam Jones for their family doctor, and although nothing came out of Nancy’s broken nose, it was apparent that tension was high between the two families. Thankfully no one knew for certain what happened, but naturally decided to avoid the newest members to the neighbourhood. So no bricks coming through the windows at night, at least not yet.

Snorting at the thought of someone having big enough balls to try, Eric yanked a particularly stubborn weed out of the upturned soil. If he had any less of a resolve maybe he’d give up and go inside, grab a cool beer and relax. Instead he was knelt in front of the flowerbed, removing some ragweed from his rosebushes. This whole repeated process sucked ass, he wasn’t used to or happy with things so...repetitive. Often he gave up his hobbies after doing them for a couple days, like for instance, the gym. Kyle was still riding his ass on that one.

The only saving grace was the twins next door had shown him the ropes, easing him into gardening until he got his very own green thumb.

He paused in his work, huffing as he settled onto the back of his legs. Everything was looking good, like some lonely old woman lived here. The type who's grandchildren never visited and was waiting to die in her sleep, or be eaten by a horde of cats. Honestly either or was okay with him.

The wind chimes on the porch sung softly as a breeze passed through, distracting enough that he didn't hear the door open.

"Eric?" It was said casually, but the suddenness of it still made him flinch. Embarrassed at being so caught off guard, he frowned when he met his husband's gaze.

"What?"

Kyle was leaning across the railing, dressed in his pajamas. One of Eric's t-shirts and a pair of navy blue shorts, "Are you coming in to eat or are you spending the whole afternoon out here?" 

He pretended to consider this for a second, like his stomach wasn't growling loudly at the food. "Hmm...well-"

"I'm not going to beg you, it makes no difference to me."

"Ouch, there goes my feelings."

Kyle rolled his eyes, the corners of his lips twitching with a smile as he headed inside. He left Eric to sit there a few moments, convincing himself that he'd done enough work today and there was no need to fight the alluring call of brisket - fresh from the oven if he went by the mouth watering scent wafting from the opened windows of the kitchen. Eager as can be, he peeled off his gloves, tossing them into the basket by the door as he went inside.

As soon as the door shut behind him, already Kyle was calling out, asking him to "Finish setting the table." He made a big deal of groaning loudly, kicking off his shoes with a commotion completely unnecessary. Then he headed into the kitchen, hurriedly grabbing the plates and forks. 

"Might as well put a collar on me."

Kyle scoffed, walking past with a casserole dish clutched between two oven mitts. "Don't pretend like you wouldn't like that."

"Hmm, I think either one of us could pull it off." He soon joined his husband at the table, scooping the food onto a plate as quickly as he could. His ass barely had enough time to hit the seat before forkfuls of brisket were shoveled into his gaping mouth. "Fuck!" There goes his tongue, burnt to shit. 

The mood of the room left, displeased when Eric spat a glob of half-chewed brisket onto his plate. "Holy shit that's hot..." 

Kyle chuckled from across the table, he softly blew on his(like a normal person). Delicious taste melting on his taste buds, he twirled his fork around, contemplating the best approach to such a difficult conversation. Although never one to shy away from confrontation, it was hard to voice his worries about something like this. To discuss where he failed, Eric had grown.

"I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Mmpff?" The other merely gave an inquisitive grunt, having just managed to swallow a chunk of meat.

"I..." Kyle cleared his throat, "I want to move again." He glanced away, silence filled with the clatter of metal on wood.

Eric ran a hand messily through his hair, fork forgotten. "Are you _kidding_ me?"

"Look I kno-"

"Kyle, we just _got_ here and already you want to move? Do you know how frustrating that is?"

"Yes but," Kyle shook his head, trying to find a way to phrase this. "When we first moved it was because of a contract deal with the firm, but I thought this town would be nice to settle down in. To start a family...but now I'm not too sure. I don't feel comfortable here, I don't want our future children to grown up in this kind of environment. I don't want another South Park."

"Babe I love you, but this is a real shitty thing to spring on me. We just unpacked everything."

Kyle set everything to the side, walking around the table to draw his husband in a hug. "I know, I'm sorry, but please try to see things from my point of view." Obviously annoyed, Eric hugged him back. With his chin resting on his hunched over husband's shoulder, he sighed "Is it because of that bitch?" Kyle flinched, he didn't need to hear the name to understand who Eric was talking about.

"It's correlated," he admitted. "The firm has been... awkward to work at."

Eric pulled back, "Are you being bullied?" The tone was playful but Kyle could tell the concern and fury behind it was sincere. The hands around his waist tightened just a little harder.

"Nothing I can't handle," he said with a smile, hoping he could set his husband at ease. It didn't work, Eric's frown only worsened.

"If you need me to bust some heads in, I'm more than capable." 

"I k-"

"Seriously just say the word, and there will be a raid on that fucking office. Maybe some of the officers get a little rougher than necessary, shit like that happens." 

Kyle gave a dubious snort, not willing to voice that maybe it'd be a bit harder to quell the complaints of a building filled with lawyers. But his husband _did_ have his ways, especially when it came to making people mute. "I'll think about it," he patted the other's thigh before he stood back up. Barely have taken a step to return to his seat, Eric's thoughtful voice reeled him back in.

"Babe do you really want to leave?" He nodded. "Well," Eric started again, "you know I'll go where ever you need me. I'll move again without complaining..."

"..but..?" Kyle added, wondering what the catch could be.

"You have to stay another month, to make here work. After that? Hell, I'll be the first to book a moving truck."

"That's it? No bitching?" Eric curtly nodded. "But... You're the one who hates it the most here, why the sudden love?"

"Who knows, seems like a recurring pattern that I turn out to love things I hated."

Pointedly Kyle ignored the comparison, and Eric's eyebrow waggling. "Okay, I can tolerate a month."

 

* * *

The afternoon turned into a somber night, silence prevailing over the streets as the lights from the houses turned off one by one. One of the last ones was theirs, bedroom darkened as Kyle finally fell asleep. Eric waited a few seconds before climbing out of bed, keeping the loud sound of his weight creaking the floorboards to an absolute minimum. Shutting the door softly behind him, he crept down the hallway with the elegance of an jungle cat. Or that's what he told himself, in fact he seemed to be making all the more noise than if he just walked normally.

And yet in his mind he was like a ninja, or a... a shadow! Yeah, that's it, a totally badass shadow. 

He opened the door across the corridor, fumbling for a moment before he could flip the light switch on. Inside the office, a midst the stacks of boxes of paperwork and boring documents was Eric's cell phone. Unplugging it from its charging wire, he took a seat at the desk. The name he was looking for in his contacts was thankfully in his recent(s); he turned the volume down low before hitting the call button. 

Beside his desk was a window that looked onto the house next door, neighbouring window positioned on the same level. The line rung into his ears, until finally that window shone with a sudden light. Seconds later a groggy "Hello?" was whispered into his ear.

"Hey, change of plans."

"..what...?" The voice swore, "Eric is that you? It's far too late to be bothering someone at this time of night."

"Yeah I know, but something happened at dinner. Kyle wants to move, so we have to hurry things up."

"What?!" Eric held the phone away from his ear, "Why?!"

"If I had to guess, had to be because of that Jones chick. I don't know the specifics, he's clammed up tighter than a Catholic nun."

"Hm, you'd be surprised."

"Ew," he shuddered, "that's so gross."

Marcy shrugged from her place, "I've had worse."

"Please... _just stop_... I don't need to know about old lesbian sex."

"Trust me," Marcy snickered, "you're missing out."

"Yeah okay." Eric was relieved that the rest of their conversation didn't stay on that topic, he had his limits. He spent another ten minutes chatting, checking all of his bases until either couldn't speak without yawning. At that point, they said their goodbyes and both eagerly headed back to bed.


	7. Part Two

Two weeks is all it took, that was all the time Eric needed to prepare his revenge. Granted, it would have been nice if he had another week, just to make sure everything was perfect, but that was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

He only mentioned the importance of today the night before, which Kyle wasn’t necessarily happy about. Pissed wasn’t right either, more confused than anything else. They’d been having dinner, a salad with a fancy name Eric couldn’t bother remembering, and a juicy slab of steak. The kind that melts in your mouth and gives you a boner, well, it at least gave Eric a boner.

“I put our name down for that contest” he casually mentioned, like it wasn’t out of character for him.

Kyle had been halfway through chewing his food at that moment, the suddenness having him swallowing the chunk incorrectly. He sputtered for a second, instinctively trying to cough it back up as it painfully scraped down his throat. Eric rose from his seat, but Kyle waved him to sit back down. After the looming threat of choking to death was gone, he hastily took a big gulp of the water in his cup.

Heart still pounding in his ears, he squinted at his husband through his tears, “Wh-what contest?”

“Babe,” Eric smiled softly in an attempt of reassurance, “don’t worry.”

“Yeah, like that’ll make me feel any better.” He set his cup down, “You still haven’t answered my question..”

He had him there. Eric leaned forward on his elbows, knitting his fingers together, a mocking image of prayer. “That garden show, they give out blue ribbons for how well kept and beautiful your yard is.”

“Eric,” Kyle said exasperated, “I know what a garden show is. What I’m curious about is, why?” His frustration increased with his husband’s dismissive shrug, and despite all of that, he wanted to be supportive, he really did. “When is it?”

“Tomorrow.” Eric stabbed a piece of lettuce, popping it into his mouth.

“ _Eric_ …”

“ _Kahl_...look it’ll be fine.”

“What happened to keeping a low profile? Not everyone likes us here… they don’t like _me_ , do you seriously want all that attention?”

“Kahl what do you think is going to happen? People are going to grab their pitchforks when they see our name entered into the contest?” He snorted, “ _Ooh_ maybe they’ll put crabgrass on our lawn!”

“That’s not funny.”

“Then stop overreacting!” His face softened at the worried expression across from him, “Look, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. If they start shit I’ll just taser their asses. And if I get arrested for police brutality, you can use that lawyer lingo of yours to get me out. Easy.”

Kyle couldn’t help but chuckle, “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works. Even if I did represent you, I’m not sure you could cover my firm’s cost.”

“Maybe” Eric breathed, voice lowering into a rumble, “I can pay you back in other ways…?”

“God,” Kyle broke out into a loud laugh, “that was awful! You sound like you’re starring in some raunchy porno!”

“Hm,” Eric leaned back while he fingered his upper lip, “maybe I should grow a mustache. You know, to complete the effect.”

“Not if you want to sign some divorce papers.”

 "Ouch. That's what I get for marrying a Jew _and_ a lawyer, the worst combination! It'd be weird if you weren't heartless and obsessed with money."

"Says Mr. Let-me-just-grab-some-food-from-a-crime scene."

Eric bristled, that was still a bit of a sore topic for him. "It wasn't like she was going to eat it, not with that gray matter sprayed everywhere."

"You couldn't wait until you got home? What about the lunch I packed you?"

"You know that wasn't my fault! The soup exploded everywhere in my cooler." Frowning at the memory, he mumbled "I had to wash it out with the hose out back and everything."

"And you say I'm the heartless one?"

They kept going back and forth like that for the rest of the evening, not really bickering - more like verbal foreplay. It followed them into the kitchen, where they taunted each other while washing their dishes. The climax of their argument having Kyle bent over the kitchen counter, jeans pooled around his ankles, and the dishes completely forgotten. Where they'd stay in the sink until the morning after, bubbles long gone and water cold.

* * *

 

The day after was a cool Saturday, sun barely peaking out from a cover of clouds. The weatherman had advertised rain, but so far nothing. And that was good enough for Eric. The garden show took place regardless, an apparent big deal in this neighbourhood. Everyone raced around to tidy, looking for any stubborn weeds that might have popped up during the night. 

Eric observed all this from his porch with indifference, sipping his morning coffee without a care. It was beneath him to act like this, running around like his head was chopped off. At that thought he directed his gaze to the house across from his, letting his glare settle on the back of Adam Jones. The doctor was watering the rose bushes, trying his best while his wife screamed about the hose setting. 

"Mist, Adam! Mist not shower!"

Christ, Eric was thankful he was gay, he wasn't sure how Adam made it this long without caving her skull in or blowing his own. The man deserved a fucking medal. Eric felt bad for him, he really did. Adam was stuck in a loop, a boring insignificant man. He had a plain appearance, one that blended so well into the background that this author wouldn't bother to describe him. Just grey mushed with brown, a smudge on the landscape. What little character he had was absorbed into his banshee of a wife, now void of any personality whatsoever.

Eric was pulled away from his thoughts when the door to his house opened up, gently shutting behind his husband. Already Kyle was beside him, smelling wonderful from his recent shower. He dipped down with a kiss onto Eric's awaiting lips, fingers brushing lightly against the nape of his neck. 

"I'll be right back," he said against the brunette's mouth.

"Where are you going?" Eric asked between another kiss, hands pulling on his husband's shirt. Finally at ease when his fingertips met the smooth skin of Kyle's hips.

"Groceries." Kyle responded, moving to put a little distance between them. It was hard not to be swept up, to allow himself to fall into Eric's boundless passion. And just like he hoped wouldn't happen, Eric saw through the hesitance.

"You don't want to be around when it starts, huh? I get it."

"I-"

Eric grabbed his hand, shushing him a tender look, "It's okay. I get it, you don't need to explain yourself, really."

His chest ached, feeling a bit foolish, but he gladly took the peace offering. "Thanks."

"Just do me a favour, babe? Make it back in time for the fireworks."

"...Okay..."

It made this whole event seem far more lavish and unnecessary with the fireworks, something that everyone went to the park to watch after the winner was announced, but for Eric it was the icing on the cake. Today was all the more sweeter because of it. Even though the contest didn't take place until 5:00 PM, he still felt as if things weren't ready. If only he had another day... But fuck, we can't have all the things we want in life. 

As the car pulled out of their driveway, Eric watched after it, silently wishing Kyle would have a good day. No one deserved it more than Kyle, especially since he had to deal with Eric's bullshit on a regular basis. Sighing he stood up, taking his empty mug with him inside.

Donut themed slippers padding softly on the hardwood, he lumbered into the kitchen. Momentarily placing his mug on the counter so he could fill it up with some of coffee leftover in the pot, which blessedly was still warm. He was still scooping some sugar into his mug when a knock rapped on the front door; "Come in!" He yelled over his shoulder.

"So, how are we feeling?"

Eric shrugged, "Better now that I'll have some caffeine in my system."

"Good, you're not nervous at all?"

"No, why...? Should I be?" He took a tentative sip from his mug, giving a grimace before he set it back down; the cream set aside was then picked up.

"Maybe, it _is_ a big deal around here." Marcy paused before she corrected herself, "It's a big deal for _her_."

"Blowjobs are a big deal for me, but no one cares about that. So why should I care what she thinks?"

"I guess you have a point there, but aren't you worried about the fallout after all of this?"

"Were you worried about the fallout of marrying another woman?"

They both stood there, wondering where this conversation would go. Eric's hands started to sweat as Marcy stared at him, he hoped he didn't cross a line. He really did like her, she wasn't a complete bitch to be around. If his stupid mouth ruined this unlikely friendship, fuck, he wasn't sure how to handle that. The words 'I'm sorry' were starting to form in his mouth when she said, "I was terrified."

She glanced down, admiring the gold band around her finger, shine faded with age. When she looked back up, Eric swore he was looking at his own reflection, "But that didn't fucking stop me." Marcy smiled at him, understanding soaking into the atmosphere, "Just please try to think about your future, not the immediate gratification. I like Kyle far too much for you two to move away."

He cleared his throat, "What about me?"

"You're okay, not as funny." His face broke into a smile with that. "Okay, enough chatting, we still have a contest to win!" 

It really was like looking into a mirror.

_5:03 PM_

 

The time for the contest came too quickly, and even though Eric acted like everything was fine, he was a wreck. He was filled with a nervous energy, it'd been too long since his last scheme. In Marcy's home, he paced the living room, trying not to peer out from the window. He already knew what was happening, four judges wandered down the sidewalk, all dressed in their Sunday best as they inspected each house entered in the competition. They all had little notebooks where they jotted notes of observation, voices hushed as they whispered among themselves. They looked like a four headed beast, keeping close together as they travelled. Eric knew their names well, he had them seared into his mind - anything less would be sloppy.

 ** _Josh Sevy_**. Tall with a hooked nose, he owned several botanical stores. His wife Tabatha, or Tabby as she was often called, was distinguished in the charity scene. She was friends with Nancy. Which would have been a problem, if Josh didn't secretly smoke pot with his twenty years younger girlfriend. 'Trixie', as she called herself, visited Eric's station frequently.

 _ **Elliot Konda Sr**_. Stout and overweight, he had a heart problem, which explained how easily his face changed from a delightful shade pink to purple. When he wasn't popping his medication like they were tic-tacs, he was Chief of the local police department - aka Eric's boss. He wasn't hard to handle, but his urolagnia apparently was. He had a running name at the station, Chuck Berry, which he hadn't caught on to.

 _ **Annie Watkins**_. Professional and elegant, she ran the bank downtown, and had been trying to worm her way into Tabatha Sevy's pants for years.

And finally **_Noellyn Cassano_**. She was the wildcard, listed unironically on her social media for her favourite movie was Troll 2. Naturally she was everything that is wrong with this world. These were the judges, God help them all.

Unable to contain himself any longer, he crossed the room, ripping the curtains away from the window to watch as the group stopped in front of the Jones house. They stayed there longer than he liked, admiring the colour and silken  texture of the flowers, still glistening from the gentle mist of water. They were fascinated in particular with a bush of rosa peace near the bird fountain. Even he had to agree that it was impressive, with the soft yellow and teasing shade of pink on the outermost petals. And it just _had_ to be set next to the damn fountain, God he fucking hated it!

"Sweetie, why don't you have a slice of banana bread? It can't be good watching that." Shit, she was right. With one last glance, he was somewhat comforted by the judges finally leaving the Jones' yard to inspect the next house.

When he entered the joined room, it was with a jittery smile. "Who knew a garden show could be so exciting."

"Every lonely suburban housewife in the country?"

He sat on the stool by the island, grinning as Marcy cut him a slab of fresh bread. "I'm not too sure about every state, I think they just kill their husbands in some."

"Hm, am I sensing a theme here or do you just have a thing for crazy women?"

"Ugh," he shuddered, "hell no. I got enough of that in my childhood."

"I guess it's just me then." Marcy smiled at the disgust radiating from her guest; wordlessly she slid the plate over, it wasn't fun until they were squirming. Amused when Eric took the food to distract himself, she reached for a pack of cigarettes nearby. "Do you mind?" Her smile deepened at the head shake, and ever the hostess, she made sure to offer a stick.

"I don't smoke. Not anymore."

"Why? Health reasons?"

Eric scooped another forkful into his mouth, not bothering to swallow his food before he talked. "Nah, we're all going to die anyways so what's the point? I used to smoke a lot in college, before dating Kahl. Stress or something..." He stared at his plate, thinking about the past. Marcy flicked her lighter, scent of smoke soon following.

A heavy inhale, then an exhale. "And?"

"Then we ran into each other at a party, and it was so weird.. seeing him again. I think he was dating some guy, but it wasn't working out. I don't really remember, just this intense attraction, like we were being pulled together by some invisible force."

"Cute. Did you guys flirt?"

Eric snorted, "More like I got the dirtiest death glare across the room."

"That seems about right, what changed your minds? It's hard to imagine you guys being separated from each other."

"Yeah.." Eric turned the ring around his finger, "It's bizarre how things turn out. I think he was trying to freak me out, sending these 'I still hate you' vibe, but it was hot more than anything. I ended up approaching him, we made out in my crappy car. And that was it."

Marcy rose a brow questioningly. "That was it? Kyle doesn't seem like the easy type." 

"...Okay, I had to convince him to see me again. He wrote the first time off as a fluke, but eventually I got him to cross over to the dark side. The only condition being that I had to give up my smokes. Kahl hates the smell, gives him seriously bad migraines. So it was either that or missing out on great sex and... and _him_. By that time I was already hooked, not much of a choice."

"Aw..."

"Oh shut up." He ignored the heat coming from the tip of his ears. 

"So what became of him?"

Confused he looked up, "Of who?"

"Kyle's ex-boyfriend."

" _Him?"_  Eric scoffed, although it's been such a long time, the prospect of anyone else being with Kyle made his blood boil. "Who cares, he was a nobody."

"Ooh, I sense a story!"

"It was nothing, okay?"

Marcy leaned forward, gesturing at his frown with her cigarette, "Then why are you still jealous?" Shit, she had him. Again.

"I don't know.. You should have seen him, he was classically handsome, like some actor."

"Actors aren't necessarily handsome, look at Adam Sandler."

"He didn't look like fucking Adam Sandler, he was a Guy Madison - all American boy, the kind you let your parents meet. He and Kahl went to university together, he studied to become a Neurologist."

"Seems like you remember more then you'd like to admit."

"It's hard not to compare myself to that. He was perfect, never late, he didn't have holes in his socks. And when they were together? It was impossible to turn away."

"Eric, Kyle chose you for a reason."

"Hm." He stopped fiddling with his ring. "I try to remember that, but if he could leave a dude like that? What chance do I have?" They sat in silence, then Eric gave a chuckle. "It's funny, when they first had sex it was probably romantic. Candles, music, rose petals, the works. For us... Ha ha, it was in some restroom stall. We couldn't help it, you know? I went to this dirty basement concert, trying to disconnect. And he was there..."

"I'm no shrink, but it seems like you have a lot of insecurity around this. Have you tried talking to him about this?"

"Yeah," he ran a hand through his hair, "he knows. That's one of the reasons we left."

Marcy froze, mouth still around her cigarette. "Because of Guy Madison?"

"Kept running into him in the city, like some fucking cockroach. I hoped maybe he'd look like shit, after everything." Eric shook his head in disbelief, "The opposite. Still single, but doing shit with his life. I couldn't handle it, that smug bastard. One day Kahl said he wanted to move somewhere far from the city, to settle down - but it's obvious he did it for me. Didn't want me to bug out the next time I saw that idiot, and kill 'em."

"Eric.."

"I know, I know. But I keep waiting for the day I wake up, and he isn't there. I'm not exactly easy to love, much less spend the rest of your life with."

A hand was placed on his shoulder, he didn't even realize he was trembling until it felt it. He felt like a bitch, but he avoided eye contact.

"When I lost Annette, it was like I lost a piece of me. Don't regret things in the past, Eric, live for now. You never know what's around the corner, so hold on to what you have." Finally his gaze met her's.

* * *

_5:45 PM_

 

Pulled over into some random parking lot, Kyle sat in his car, staring at his phone. It felt as if he'd been there longer, not doing anything. His screen went to black, for the fifth time. He sighed, finally putting the effort into unlocking his cell, and without thinking went into his photos. Unknowingly a smile crept onto his face as he flipped through them, silly little things. When he saw something funny or stupid on his way to work, he often kept the images to show Eric when he got home. There was memories too, one's he couldn't bear to delete for more storage. He meant to print them off and put them in some photo albums, but he never seemed to have the time nowadays.

Photos of them at concerts, vacations, or the rare occasion of a date. In every photo they were laughing together, or staring at each other, unable to look away. He lingered on one in particular, his favourite. A couple of summers ago they went to a beer festival, it had been crazy day. Kenny had went with them, bringing along his current fling. He took it when they weren't looking, finding it funny enough to send to Kyle afterwards.

Kenny said a joke, Kyle didn't remember what it was about, but it had been hilarious at the moment. Arm slung over him, Eric had been downing a beer when the punchline was said. Caught off guard, he spat out in surprise, laughter causing him to cough. The bewildered expression of his husband - with beer soaking the front of his shirt, had Kyle ending up in a laughing attack. It was priceless, them giggling and covered in beer.

He exited out of the app, resting his head on the seat with a groan. Everything was supposed to be simple when they moved here, but it'd been the opposite. And Eric, Kyle wondered how he was dealing with everything.

"Shit." Hands roughly dragging across his face, he mentally berated himself. While he sat in some parking lot moping, Eric was left to handle everything. "For better or worse" he whispered, switching the gear back to drive. 

The journey back was done without any thought, only the instinct of taking a route he was accustomed to. Unable to appreciate the silence, he turned the radio on. Even the static was a welcomed sound, a correlation to his inner turmoil. He wasn't at odds with the contest, in fact he was glad that Eric found a hobby that didn't involve breaking the law. What had him struggling was the unknown, the thought of being put at risk. Trust, he had to trust him.

Fingers tightening around the steering wheel, he made the turn from the main road onto their quiet street. Fighting his nerves, he parked next to Eric's vehicle. He eyed the house in his rear-view mirror before turning off the ignition, "Trust" he repeated. Everything was going to be fine, they were going to be fine.

 

It wasn't hard finding his husband, Eric hadn't put much effort into exploring their neighbourhood. Something Kyle was now thankful for. He waited after giving Marcy's front door a knock, listening for a response between all of the laughter inside. Amidst an airy laugh was a hearty sound, deep within someone's belly. Yep, Eric was definitely inside - he'd recognize that loudness anywhere.

"Come in!"

Not needing anymore confirmation, he did exactly that. Making sure to take his shoes off, he followed the noise into the kitchen. The smell of smoke immediately had his nose scrunching up, but he attempted to ignore it. Leaning towards each other over an island, the pair both sipped from wine glasses. They turned around at his entrance, wearing conspiratorial smiles. 

"What's going on here?"

"Nothing much, sweetie. We thought you weren't coming back until later?"

"I was," he glanced over to his husband, "but I came to support our garden."

"Only the garden?" Eric drawled with a smirk, tone lilted with a slur. _How much did he drink?_

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Obviously I came for you too." The two wine bottles on the counter, one empty the other nearly, were hard not to see. Sensing the shift, Marcy climbed off of her stool with all the grace of a tipsy eighty year old, which was a lot better than his very much larger and younger husband. 

"Excuse me, I'm going to lay down for a bit. Behave you two."

"No promises!" Eric called after her, grinning when she turned around in the doorway to tap the side of her nose. 

As soon as she left Kyle walked up to the occupied stool, stopping only when he was pressed against his husband's side. Two arms encircled him, and greedily he drew from the warmth there. Offering a sigh to the gentle silence, he buried his head into the broad set of shoulders, breathing in the scent of wine and time spent in a garden. "I'm sorry, I said I'd try."

Eric scoffed, "No one is saying you aren't."

"I know, I didn't say that to pick at you." A pair of hands smoothed down his back, occasionally giving a pat. Soothing. "I want to be person you turn to, no, I need that."

"And you are."

He moved his head so he could lightly place a kiss on Eric's collarbone, "I want more of that, of us." 

"Jesus, Kyle." Looking up, his heart spread through his body, travelling to the point of his feet. That goofy expression of adoration made his head dizzy, like he'd been on a roller coaster for a third time. "I love you." A smile spread over Kyle's face, and helpless he kissed that look - everywhere. 

"Wanna see those fireworks?"

"What about the results?"

Eric laughed, threading their hands together, "I already know who won."

* * *

_6:32 PM_

 

Night came quicker then everyone thought, the clouds that blanketed the sky were perfect for the firework show. Families laughed and talked within the park, either laying on the grass or sitting in lawn chairs. Kyle had found an old worn quilt from home, one he didn't mind dirtied. Although it wasn't that big, neither seemed to care, using the excuse to rest as closely as possible. They weren't that far from the other families, but it felt like they were in their own personal bubble of privacy. It was nice.

Eric lifted the ribbon again, marveling over it in the limited sunlight. Not so much because it meant a great deal to him, but because it pissed other people off - mainly Nancy. Even in their seclusion, her hateful gaze was a thorn. Kyle sighed, "Maybe we should move to somewhere else?"

"And give that bitch what she wants? No thank you. Plus, I'd miss her reaction."

"...Her what?" Kyle's head shot up, "Eric, what did you _do?"_

"Besides blackmailing the judges into giving me first place?" It was depressing how easy it was, nearly took away all the fun. He shushed Kyle, tracing his thumb across a cheekbone, "Don't worry, nothing too bad."

Kyle stared at him for a moment before laying back down, "Well...there's nothing I can do now." Eric smiled. The park collectively turned their heads to the sky, a handful jumping when the first fireworks went off. The night cracked with noise, colours exploding while the smell of smoke settled. The explanation everyone later gave was that they thought the smoke was from the show. When the wind got stronger, the scent worsened.

No one had seemed to jump to the conclusion of anything serious was happening until a figure darted across the grass to the Jones family. Betty, terribly out of breath, stumbled to Nancy with a sweating horror that people would talk about for days. Kyle couldn't catch what they were saying, anything was hard to hear over the fireworks. What was heard was the scream, a piercing sound that nails on a chalkboard would be impressed over if ever sentient.

After that, sirens shrieked. Crowds watching were bewildered as red lights flashed over the landscape. Firetrucks drove past, speeding down the road. Naturally curious, people peeled themselves away from the show, eager to see what was going on. Kyle started to join them, wanting to understand, but a firm hand brought him back down to the blanket. A look from his husband had Kyle quiet.

"Nothing too bad?" 

Eric shrugged, not caring if the answer was the same anymore.

Later Kyle would find out that the Jones' house burned down, everything, especially the garden were gone. When a formal investigation was launched, the department found the suspected cause of the fire, a cigarette left unattended and lit inside. Nancy who would suffer from a mental breakdown, would publicly accuse the gay couple across from her. This would lead no where, as it was known that the pair didn't smoke; and Eric had been careful, even in the friends he had that were investigators.

What really made things perfect was when Nancy went ballistic, ranting in the street about her neighbours, and spitting offensive slurs that rose eyebrows and would have the police called. Although most of the street may feel indifference, they held their beliefs at home. To say it aloud, where it could be judged, was considered ignorant. Even Nancy's so called friends were outraged, it wasn't as if _they_ would say anything about the Broflovski-Cartmans, the thought was appalling! Quickly the PTA moms circled, smelling blood and gossip in the water.

Eric went as far as to threat to sue, 'damaged emotionally' by the abusive torment and slander. The only reason he didn't was because Kyle thought that was going too far, which was a shame. In the end, the Jones found themselves not wanted in their town - not even after all those years at the bake sale. And Nancy learned the term 'fair weathered friends'.

 

It was raining, air pungent with the fragrance of the gardenia in the flowerbed. Leaning close to the house, shielded by the roof, Eric and Kyle stood on their porch. The building of the new house had stopped for the day, shielded from the weather with great big tarps. Sipping their coffee, they stared across. 

Kyle snuggled closer to the arm around his shoulder, gazing at the profile of his husband with affection. "Eric?"

"Hm?" He gave him a glance, swallowing another gulp.

"In case you ever doubt it... I love you." 


End file.
